


cocke n balle tortureè

by madeinchinainkorea



Category: Shhesnanbsvsbdd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:41:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25996177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeinchinainkorea/pseuds/madeinchinainkorea





	cocke n balle tortureè

  
The groan swelling at the back of Theia Perte’s throat hardly repressed itself as she sunk deeper into the hideously uncomfortable guest chairs the Handler had strewn around her desk. Half in embarrassment and half in sheer rue, she turned her gaze to her twiddling thumbs and didn’t dare look up. By God, if only she had the guts to scrape her eardrums out then Theia probably would’ve by then. What on earth had she expected from this? Even after numerous attempts (and numerous rereads on a book on how to be extremely persuasive), everything was in-futile. This wasn’t never work ━ this probably would never work, even if the Handler ended up dead in a ditch, or better, herself.

Realising that it was probably best to not block out whatever excuse the Handler would throw at her this time ━ this was mostly in fear of getting sent to cleaning duty again, or worse, cleaning duty with Ingrid from Management ━ Theia perked her head up slightly and finally started listening again.

"...now look at me, Theia." The Handler's voice faded back in, sounding overly exasperated and annoyed which only made Theia’s toes curl harder. "Darling, the world outside your precious life at the Commission is extremely dangerous for a young girl like you."

Well, that was a bit of an overstatement, Theia thought, hardly biting back the urge to explain how she was not a little girl and was thirty shitting years old despite how she acted or even looked.

"Don't you look at me like that, young lady. You may be thirty, but you are still technically fifteen. What would someone like you do if you were caught in an alley with a murderer? Fight back? Kill him?"

Theia blinked back in response, face so blank it was unreadable. The Handler did have a point, however reluctantly Theia admitted that ━ Herb from Management could probably put up a fist fight better than her, and he was _Herb_ for crying out loud!

The Handler merely scoffed and drew up a broad smile. "And really darling, your abilities are much needed here. Where would we all be without your delightful pick-me-up coffee each morning? Everyone loves you here! I'm not sure where we'd all be without that adorable little smile of yours," she gushed, tugging a manicured finger onto Theia's cheeks. "Honestly, I have no clue as to where you pull all these ideas about leaving from. A girl so fragile as yourself really should just be content with your grand life here."

After a sharp draw of breath, Theia finally spoke. “Is there really anything grand about serving you lot coffee all damn━”

"Ah-ah! Language, young lady.” The Handler snapped, wagging a condescending finger into Theia’s face, as though she was two years old again. "Now, what did we say about talking back?"

Theia painfully remarked the lecture from the month before, listing each rule the Handler had set up for her after she’d just spent the day _not_ celebrating her birthday and smoking outside with some random ladies from the Circuit room. 

”Good. I’m glad you’ve finally remembered _something_ ,” the Handler said, drumming her fingers along the stainless steel desk below her.

She drawled a sigh and frowned. “But mother! Why can't ━ no, _won’t_ ━ you just━”

” _No_.“ The dark and serious glance upon her mother’s face was no short of threatening and Theia felt a small chill of terror trail down her spine. As soon as that look appeared, it vanished only to be replaced with a smile that lay a little too wide and a little too jolly. “Now darling, why don’t you make yourself useful and get me a coffee? Two sugars, you know how I like it. We could go out for lunch if you’d like. Now off you go, dearie.”

Theia’s teeth gritted against each other and swooped up from her chair, a tight smile pressing at her lips. “Yes, of course. . . _mother_.” After a dismissing flourish from the Handler’s hand, Theia swept out of the room.

The next twenty minutes Theia spent was filled with sulking and grumbling to herself as she dragged her feet along the marble corridors of the Commission. If only she could just set her stupid damn desk on fire for the millionth time in her painstakingly slow life, that'd show her and her stupid cup of coffee with two stupid sugars. If only the Handler hadn’t replaced her desk with a stainless steel one just for that reason. Damn her smarts. Damn this situation.

Being christened the supposed ‘golden girl’ for the Commission shouldn’t have been because of her damn brewery skills. Theia wouldn’t have minded if that title came to her for her powers, or how each time the sun would blink from behind the clouds, a soft shimmer of light would cast itself upon Theia's warm complexion. _God_. 

There was so much more she craved in life other than being the lovely girl who served the workers of the Commission coffee. So much more than counting how many sugars went into some worker’s tea. So much more than what her mother had told her she was worth, or anyone else for that matter. But her determination was nothing more than her gut squelching beneath her skin at that moment, only a distant thought as Theia found herself quickly being dragged back down to her bitter reality.

”Stupid damn thorn-in-my-side coffee-bastard _fudge,”_ Theia muttered aloud, and a passing worker gasped loudly and levelled a sharp look at her as he hobbled by. "Oh God, erm, not you! I am so, so sorry... good morning!" She called after the worker as he hurried down the hall.

Way to go, Theia, you absolute knuckle sandwich, she thought, kicking a random cabinet filer and wincing in pain as she stubbed her toe against the metal.

”Owww. . . _OW_!” Just her luck, she’d managed to bang her head against said cabinet as she smothered her poor toe with love. If only a rock fell on her head or some sort of baseball bat or even _better_ , some sort of siren call from God that told her to just end━

”Oh, fudge!” Something thick and heavy slammed against her neck and for a moment, as Theia’s vision slightly clouded as she looked up at the glaring light above her, she thought that God really had just struck her dead. But as everything quickly came rushing back to sight, she realised that she was not in fact dead but simply lying on the floor like some deranged crack addicted that her mother had always warned her about. 

Theia grasped for the thing at that had hit her and she frowned.

A file labelled with nothing but ‘MR FIVE, CLASSIFIED APOCALYPSE INFORMATION’ was in her hands. What the hell was a file about the apocalypse doing here? What the hell was Mr Five doing on the name? As far as she knew Mr Five was simply some assassin for the Commission, who the Handler had tracked for a good few months and claimed that he had extraordinary powers. To anyone who seemed to bring him up, they spoke of him like the second coming of Jesus, with skills so brilliantly practiced and was claimed some sort of legend. Theia just took everyone’s word for it. Mr Five truly seemed to be _something_.

She flicked through the numerous pages, skimming through and not bothering to read all the other additional waffle. This was going to happen in the 2100 somthing, and Theia hoped that by then she’d be six feet under or living in some crater in an uninhabited island in the Caribbean or on Mars. According to this, Mr Five had ‘broken his contract’ and was trying to ‘change the timeline’, whatever that meant. Apparently the Handler was about to put in a request to have him killed. . . right, of course. . . perfectly sane of her and not cruel at all.

So, he’s escaped this damn place and is just doing whatever in 2100, doesn’t seem too bad, Theia thought to herself, taking one quick peek at Mr Five’s picture. He looked like the typical old fart Theia would see on the street, dressed in a fedora and suit and face tarnished with a moustache. Poor guy must’ve been quite unfortunate looking in his younger years if he thought sporting a moustache would’ve done his face some good.

Hah, escape. . . yes, he escaped. . . oh God, he escaped! Theia pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling as though a light bulb had just flickered upon her head along with a giant sign screaming ‘Eureka!’. How hadn’t she thought of that before? Theia would simply escape! That was her only way to freedom and Theia didn’t give a damn what her mother thought.


End file.
